


How Do I Tell You

by forsitvenire



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: 5+1 Things, Canon-Typical Violence, Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pining, Requited Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:02:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27618758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forsitvenire/pseuds/forsitvenire
Summary: Five times Flynn Fairwind’s behavior made Mathias Shaw question the true reason behind his actions, and one time Shaw didn’t have to question anything anymore.
Relationships: Flynn Fairwind/Mathias Shaw
Comments: 6
Kudos: 40





	How Do I Tell You

The first time Fairwind walked with him to _Wind’s Redemption_ happened after their mission at the Dazar’alor treasury. 

He didn’t even register that, back then, as the Captain’s company seemed like something natural to him, something that he just couldn’t get enough of. The mission itself, even though laden with great importance and both mentally and physically taxing, had been the most fun he had in years. He had been initially rather wary of Fairwind and his carelessly ribald demeanor, especially after having briefly looked into his rather questionable piracy-related past. He was, however, quite pleasantly surprised as all his prejudices quickly disappeared when the man turned out to be not only a skilled rogue but also a great conversation partner, no matter the circumstances.

Shaw was so used to people being reluctant to talk back to him, or even just _talk_ , period, as most of his operatives considered him a lone wolf, practically married to his work and not interested in anything else. Finally meeting someone who was not only able to keep up with him, but also actively participated and engaged him in playful banter, was a novelty he had welcomed with a bit cautious, but nevertheless immense relief. 

They had spent the entire way back from Zuldazar in Shaw’s cabin, talking about everything and nothing in particular, and Shaw found himself helplessly drawn to the younger man, cherishing every minute he was able to spend with him, for he knew it would be over the moment they returned to Boralus. 

There was nothing, after all, that would keep the Captain willing to stay in touch with him afterwards. He had been hired for the mission, and once that was done, he would return to his regular activities, leaving Shaw with the bitter aftertaste of how good it felt to enjoy somebody’s company for once and then never again. 

Upon their return to Boralus, the operatives involved in the success of the mission were invited to a collective dinner at the Proudmoore Keep on Jaina Proudmoore’s behalf. It wasn’t a particularly formal event, but rather a way to allow them to properly fill their stomachs with something different than the bland, 7th Legion rations they were used to eating most of the time. 

Shaw didn’t have many opportunities to talk to the Captain again during the dinner but happened to be, once again, pleasantly surprised when, after excusing himself from the table with the intention of making it an early night, he found Fairwind loitering outside the Keep. 

Waiting for him, as it quickly turned out. 

They fell into a comfortable rhythm, walking shoulder in shoulder, as the sun set below the horizon and the quiet streets of Boralus gradually drowned in the fuzzy twilight semi-darkness. They made their way through the city, carrying on with their former conversation as if it had never been interrupted at all. Sharp shadows softened and edges blurred with the disappearance of daylight and the low, warm timbre of the Captain’s voice made Shaw breathe out with ease for the first time in months. 

_Wind’s Redemption_ appeared in front of them much sooner than he would’ve liked, but he knew prolonging their impromptu evening stroll would be of no use. He thanked the Captain for his company and bid him goodnight, but the moment he turned to step on the gangway, he found himself already missing his presence and the sound of his voice. 

He couldn’t help but glance over his shoulder, however briefly, right before heading below deck. The empty wharf stared back at him, strangely judgemental, with Fairwind already long gone. 

He didn’t know why he expected anything else. 

Shaw spent the next couple of days barely leaving his cabin, trying to work his way through the pile of paperwork that had accumulated over the short period of his absence. It wasn’t a particularly demanding task, though it was daunting and repetitive as he was forced to proofread every page and check the presence of all required signatures, before handing the reports further to be properly catalogued. 

The evening of the fourth day brought him a relatively weak, but still dully throbbing and irritating headache, which persisted throughout the entirety of day five, so by the time the sun began to set and his eyes refused to cooperate any further he decided he had enough. 

He sorted out his desk, strapped his usual “going-out” set of daggers to their respective places all over his body, and made sure to lock his cabin properly, before walking out onto the deck. He acknowledged General Feathermoon and Commander Wyrmbane with a quick, polite nod as he passed by and quickly made his way down onto the wharf before either of them could ask him where he was going, all of the sudden. 

He figured a breath of fresh, evening air and a bit of exercise would help him rest his eyes and perhaps combat the headache, so a stroll through the harbour and then back through the upper city seemed like a way to go. A proper, hot dinner would do him good as well, he supposed. The tasteless, cold supper he’d probably be offered back on _Wind’s Redemption_ didn’t seem appealing in the slightest. 

He walked past the docked _Middenwake_ , a ship considerably smaller than the Alliance flagship that he was used to, but much more agile and inconspicuous, destined for quickly crossing larger distances unseen rather than fighting. It reminded him of her captain, and he briefly considered seeing if Fairwind was on board. It seemed polite to perhaps go and greet him, maybe even ask about his recent whereabouts, but he quickly dropped the thought. 

It had been a few days since their mission, and they hadn’t talked since, so it wasn’t like the man was interested in staying in touch. 

It was to be expected, after all, and even though Shaw was perfectly aware of that, he still found himself reminiscing about the time they had spent together. 

Despite it all, whatever fleeting thing they had shared effectively managed to embed itself into Shaw’s memory. Having someone to interact with, just for the sake of it, certainly was more than welcome to him. Some things were not meant for certain people, however, and such was the case with him. Though he was used to working and living alone most of the time, the thought still made him feel strangely hollow. 

He deemed it as just the exhaustion settling in and refused to think about it any further. 

The harbour was still rather busy, with fishermen crowding about the wharf, packing their boats and getting ready to head out for the night hunt, but he maneuvered around them with practiced ease. Seagulls screamed their throats out, swarming around the masts, ready to follow the fishermen for a chance of stealing a piece of their catch. Their high-pitched wailing mixed with the sound of evening tide lapping against the wooden hulls and the quiet, rough murmur of some sea shanty being sung by the fishermen as they worked. Though their voices had a different drawl to them, the fishing boats had a foreign build, their sails were a different colour and the air smelled very much unlike Stormwind, the general picture still reminded him of home. 

He didn’t consider himself a sentimental man, but he rarely found himself so far away from the familiar SI:7 quarters. It had been months since he followed Lady Proudmoore across the Great Sea to Kul Tiras, and the last time he had been away from Stormwind for so long was during the Legion campaign, when he was…

He shook his head abruptly, forcing the thought out of his mind before it could overtake him. The purpose of the walk was to help him relax, not stress him out even further. Even though quite some time had passed since he was rescued from Felsoul Hold, the memories of it still felt like a barely-healed wound, ready to burst open again at the slightest touch. 

He remembered why it had been so rare that he chose to spend his time on anything other than work. Having his hands free allowed dangerously more space for his thoughts to roam, sometimes into places he took great care to leave untouched for the majority of his life.

It was a weakness. And he couldn’t allow himself any weaknesses, not anymore. 

The sun was halfway below the horizon when he reached the far end of the harbour, so he chose one of the alleyways leading inland. He had overheard his operatives talking about the plethora of inns and taverns located in a district called Upton Borough, close to the Porudmoore Keep, and since he had a meal in mind it seemed like a good place to go next. 

The area was much more packed than the harbour and though he didn’t mind being among people that much, the mix of merry, loud chatter, music and laughter wasn’t something that helped a great deal in alleviating his headache. He made his way across the street, glancing into an inn after inn, looking for a place with enough space for him to enjoy his meal in relative silence. 

After making a lap around the district, he managed to find a rather secluded, small tavern almost at the very border with Dampwick Ward. The place wasn’t overflowing with people and most of the tables were unoccupied, which technically should be concerning during this part of the day, but the general atmosphere seemed rather peaceful and the food ordered by these few, distinctly local customers looked appetizing enough. 

It was just what he wanted, after all. 

He ordered a specialty of the day, some sort of grilled fish with a side of steamed vegetables and a mug of watered-down ale. The fish was of a type he wasn’t familiar with, but he went with what most of the locals had ordered as well, and for all he knew, it was a good source of information to rely on. 

The table he picked was just right for him as well - hidden in a shadowy corner, inconspicuous, with a good view of the entire room, as well as the street in front of the tavern though the open door. He didn’t plan on watching every single person that went in or out, but the sheer thought that he could, simply made him feel more at ease. 

The food was brought to him soon enough. He was half-way through with the meal, which just as suspected, proved to be a good choice when a shadow fell over his plate. He chose not to look up, hoping it was just someone passing by, and kept his focus on the fish. Seconds passed, however, but the shadow remained persistent. 

“Here boys, take a good look at his mainlander,” came a gruff, audibly mocking voice. It was heavily accented and rough, and unlike any of the Admiralty officers or other higher-ups he was used to dealing with. 

There went his peaceful meal, he thought, feeling the bitter annoyance begin to fuel his slowly-decreasing headache anew. 

He was reluctant to look up, not really wanting to reply to the taunt, but someone apparently was desperate for his attention, as the table shook violently in front of him next, splashing some of the ale out of the mug and into his plate. 

He put away the cutlery, wiped his moustache carefully with a napkin, leaned back in his chair with his arms resting loosely on his knees, then finally moved his eyes up to acknowledge whoever decided to ruin his evening. 

A group of scruffy-looking, considerably built Kul Tirans stood in front his table. They were dressed in rugged and mostly dirty work clothing and they all regarded him with visible hostility. Dockworkers, perhaps. The tavern’s clientele was, apparently, heavily influenced by its location, after all. 

He glanced at the barkeep on the other side of the room, but he quickly averted his gaze, putting all his focus and effort into frantically removing seemingly invisible stain marks from a glass in his hands. 

Wonderful. 

He narrowed his eyes at the men, keeping a well-trained, impassive expression, waiting for them to explain the reason why they had chosen to interrupt him. 

“You’re not welcome everywhere, despite what you might think,” the same voice spoke. 

Shaw’s eyes flicked towards the direction where it came from. Its owner was almost twice his height and his dirty, hairy forearms were thicker than Shaw’s thighs. He seemed to be the leader of the group, as the rest of his companions stood behind him, visibly awaiting his next words. Shaw had the upper hand of being smaller and more agile, so he should be able to duck with ease if any of them struck, but they definitely had an advantage in numbers over him. Besides, a brawl was out of the question. He knew the Alliance presence in Boralus wasn’t appreciated in some areas, and him showing open aggression, even as a form of self-defense, would only lead to things escalating even further. 

“We were all doing just fine before you decided to bring your war to us,” another man spoke. 

He was just as tall as anyone else, but what made him stand out was his unusually scrawny form and a long, sunken-in, horse-like face. The way his gaze was slightly unfocused and his stance unusually wobbly immediately told Shaw that he was most likely drunk. 

“And now wives are left without husbands, and children are left without fathers. So many families lost their only source of income when you decided to interfere with the Ashvane business.” 

Shaw was aware of what was being said, just as much as he was aware that it wasn’t the direct fallout of Alliance’s action in Boralus, but rather the result of Kul Tiras internal problems, which Alliance in fact helped to resolve. He doubted, however, that any of the men had the mental capacity to grasp that. Their lives changed, they were forced to adapt, so they chose to blame it on what was the most convenient. The prospect of having a better life sometime in the future was something their minds couldn’t comprehend, as they were all too focused on the present. 

He couldn’t blame them. 

He couldn’t be held responsible for these accusations, either. 

“You mainlanders stuff your greedy little fingers everywhere. Politics, military, economy, and now,” the first man spoke again, making a point of bashing his fist against the table, making another wave of ale spill out, “even the daily lives of the simplest of folk. And we won’t have that, won’t we.”

An approving murmur passed through the rest of the group. Some of them had their hands already placed on the blunt cutlasses at their sides, others began to reach for rusty, curved daggers strapped to their belts. Shaw was still at loss on why, out of all the people in the tavern, he was the one whom they chose to bother. Still, his hands clenched into fists under the table and his muscles tensed instinctively, as he glanced around the room for a potential way to escape. He really wanted to avoid engaging in physical combat, for his sake as much as theirs. 

“Why don’t we send a message to your superiors? A little something to let them know of our disapproval,” the man continued, his voice more akin to a growl, as he cracked his fat, dirty knuckles, “What do you say? Eh, boys?” 

Shaw suddenly realized how quiet the tavern had become. His fingers closed around one of the daggers at his inner thigh, not pulling it out yet, but ready to do so the moment anyone made a move on him. He politely reciprocated the man’s gaze, keeping his body completely still, as if he was sizing up a rabid animal. That seemed to be the best approach, most of the time, especially with a bunch of drunk, angry thugs just looking for a reason to start a fight. The man appeared to be slowly giving in under Shaw’s emotionless gaze, as some of his facial muscles began to twitch and he kept rubbing his hands together as if he was suddenly unsure of what he wanted to do next. 

Shaw fought the urge to scoff with disdain, but he knew it would only make the men snap and finally lash out at him. He simply needed to wait, until the men got bored with him showing so signs of being intimidated or even remotely _interested_ in their display. He knew it was never about sending any messages. They just wanted to relieve themselves of their anger, and picking a scapegoat allowed a relatively easy and immediate solution to their problems. For a while. 

Seconds passed and he was already beginning to think that the men would finally leave him be until someone cleared their throat. 

Loudly, obnoxiously, and in a very much familiar way. 

“Now, gentlemen,” Fairwind quipped, pushing himself towards the table through the mob of thugs, “What seems to be the problem here? I don’t think this good man right here willed to intentionally offend any of you, I’m sure he just wanted to have a nice, warm meal.” 

“Fairwind,” spat the leader of the group with audible disgust, “so you’re meddling with the mainlanders now? Can’t say that’s surprising, for a spineless scoundrel like you.” 

Fairwind seemed entirely unbothered by the insult. His mouth was still stretched in an easy, casual grin and he seemed to pay no mind whatsoever to the elbows that found his way between his ribs as he made his way through. 

Shaw stared at him in disbelief. 

“Ah, you wound me. I’m sure we are all aware that loyalty is a ware like any other, that can be bought and sold for an appropriate price,” the _Middenwake_ captain said, the moment he reached the table. He took a deep breath, then gave Shaw and his perimeter a quick once-over. Shaw’s eyes widened slightly at the flash of genuine worry on his face, but when he turned to face the rest of the men, it was quickly gone, replaced by his former, trademark smile. “Why are you all bothering him, by the way?” 

“He took our spot,” the horse-faced man complained, “thought we’d teach him where filthy Alliance dogs like him belong.” 

“Don’t you think that’s a little over the top?” Fairwind reasoned politely, “I’d say he was entirely unaware of that. Would you just look at him, it’s obvious that he’s sorry,” he gestured vaguely towards Shaw, who looked very much like anything but being sorry. “You look like you’re starving, gentlemen. Why don’t you take a seat and I’ll buy you all a round, for old time’s sake? Let him go and I guarantee he won’t be bothering you ever again.” 

And before any of the men could react, he grasped Shaw’s elbow and pulled him from behind the table. He pushed him towards the exit and, after a split-second of reconsideration, grabbed his half-empty mug and plate as well. He brought them to the counter and settled them there with a bit more force than necessary, making sure he had the attention of the entire room, then announced loudly that he’d like to buy a mug of ale for every single one of his good friends sitting at the table that Shaw had just been evicted from. 

He plucked out a couple of gold coins from one of the pockets of his coat and handed them to the barkeep sweepingly, waited for the rest of the customers to return to their conversations, then slid another coin across the counter, this time much more inconspicuously. 

“He was never here, understood?” Fairwind told him. The sudden seriousness and deliberation in his tone made Shaw give him another, slightly alarmed look. 

But before he could consider that any further, Fairwind was already pushing at his back impatiently and guiding him out of the tavern, onto the already dark street. He dragged him after himself across almost the entirety of the bridge leading back to Upton Borough and it took Shaw a good couple of seconds to finally acknowledge what was happening. 

He wrenched his arm roughly from Fairwind’s grip, forcing him to stop, turn and face him. 

“Have you lost your mind, mate?” Fairwind hissed at him before Shaw could even attempt to voice out his displeasure. Any further protests died in his throat anyway, as he realized that the easy smile was entirely wiped off the Kul Tiran’s face, replaced by a look of visible distress. His posture was noticeably tense as well, and Shaw couldn’t recall any other situation where he had seen him so agitated, “Do you have a death wish or something? There are better ways to do it, you know, than having your brains splattered all over some shady Dampwick corner.” 

“What are you talking about,” Shaw gritted through clenched teeth. Confusion seeped into his voice, making it sound way less menacing than he wanted it to. 

“What am I _talking_ about?” Fairwind exclaimed. He realized that a few passerbys turned their head to look at him, and he quickly subdued his voice. He grabbed Shaw’s arm again and led him out of the main street, towards one of the smaller alleyways leading down, into the harbour. “There were about eight men roughly twice your weight and size, all armed, ready to deck you because you _took their favourite table_. And you just sat there and tried to stare them down. Don’t you remember?”

“I’ve had it all under control,” Shaw replied drily. He was very much aware of the way Fairwind’s warm fingers closed around his forearm and after a moment of hesitation, simply decided not to fight it for the second time. 

“Oh, I’m sure you had,” the _Middenwake_ captain scoffed, “Listen, mate, I know you’re good at stabbing things, I’ve seen it with my own eyes, but it’s different when you’re all alone against a group of people like them, who want nothing but to see you bleed.” 

Shaw’s throat tightened painfully at the suddenly somber tone in his voice, as he realized that there was a high chance that Fairwind was speaking from his own experience. That would also explain his distressed reaction. 

They reached sea level, and that was when Fairwind finally decided to let go of his arm. 

The harbour was mostly empty and rather dim, but the moonlight and a few, sparsely-placed lanterns along the waterfront provided enough light. Shaw glanced briefly at Fairwind, slightly confused by the sudden silence, and found Fairwind seemingly lost in thought. He watched the docked ships as they passed by with an unreadable expression on his face and Shaw followed his line of sight, taking in the black sea stretching in front of him and merging with the dark sky at the line of the horizon, with the glimmering seaside lights reflected in the calm waves. 

He still felt slightly astir about the encounter at the tavern, but what was most baffling to him was Fairwind’s violent reaction to it all. He was actually pretty surprised that the sailor even decided to interfere. They were just acquaintances, after all, and still, he went out of his way to see if Shaw needed any help, even though it apparently brought back some considerably unpleasant memories. Fairwind did seem rather affected by the entire situation and Shaw couldn’t help but think about the look of immense worry on his face when his first instinct upon reaching Shaw was to see if he was unharmed. 

“What the hell were you even doing there?” Fairwind asked, breaking the silence and rousing Shaw out of his thoughts. The captain was looking over his shoulder at him with a question in his sea-blue eyes. 

Shaw narrowed his eyes at him. “Eating. What else would I be doing in a tavern?” 

“There’s a hundred other inns better suited for the likes of higher-ups like you. Why there?” 

Shaw shrugged. “This one seemed peaceful enough.” 

Fairwind looked at him again, this time with an expression on his face that Shaw couldn’t really recognize, in the short period of time it was present. And just like before, it was quickly gone. 

“What were _you_ doing there, then?” Shaw asked, instead. 

Fairwind made a vague, dismissive sound, as if he was rather reluctant to answer truthfully. It reminded Shaw of the words he had spoken earlier, about his loyalties belonging to people who paid him the most. He swallowed, trying to get rid of the sudden, sour taste on the back of his tongue. 

“I had some business in Dampwick Ward to attend to. I noticed there was a bit of commotion on my way back, peeked in out of my innate curiosity and lo and behold, there you were, with your red hair and your ridiculous moustache,” Fairwind explained. The somber tone was already gone from his voice and he seemed to be back in his usual, casual mood. “It’s like a beacon, you know? Your hair. Makes me wonder how you manage to stay in stealth most of the time.” 

Shaw rolled his eyes but decided to forgo the remark. “A business in Dampwick Ward, you say?”

“Look, a job’s a job, mate.”

“Doesn’t the Alliance pay you enough?”

“You, of all people, should know how important it is to sleep with one eye open,” Fairwind shrugged, slightly sheepish. “We’re living in uncertain times, you know. I can’t allow myself to be dependent on a single source of income.”

He stopped abruptly in his tracks and Shaw had to put great effort not to stumble into him. Fairwind gave him a slightly amused, slightly sympathetic look, then gestured sweepingly in front of him, as if he was encouraging some sort of high-born lady to pass in front of him. The walk back through the harbour passed so quickly, that Shaw didn’t even realize that they had already reached _Wind’s Redemption_ and Fairwind was basically waiting for him to get on board. 

“I know you’re capable of defending yourself just right,” the _Middenwake_ captain said quietly, earnestly. “But it’s best not to tempt fate. Next time you decide to eat out, just let me know. I can show you a place or two where it’s rather unlikely for this to happen again.” 

Shaw looked at him for a while, then nodded shallowly. 

“I appreciate the offer, captain. As well as… Offering your assistance. Back then.” 

Fairwind smiled kindly at him. “Don’t mention it. I’m sure you’d do the same.” 

Shaw could see that he was lingering a bit, perhaps wanting to prolong the conversation and frankly, he’d very much like the same. But he knew they had 7th Legion soldiers and his operatives watching their every move carefully and he knew he had an image to uphold. 

They bid each other goodnight. Shaw boarded the ship and just like before, he couldn’t help but glance over his shoulder at where they had been just standing. He saw Fairwind walk under the _Wind’s Redemption_ bowsprit, towards his own vessel docked on the other side of the harbour, opposite of the Alliance flagship. It made him suddenly realize that Fairwind had crossed the entire harbour just to spend some more time with _him_ , even though it now meant he had to walk all that way back again.

Shaw watched him for a few more seconds, then shook his head sharply. 

Perhaps he had some more business to attend to in another part of the city. Or maybe he just liked to take an evening stroll before going to bed. Whatever the case was, it was rather foolish to think Fairwind would actually do it for him. 

There was no reason for him to do so, after all. 

Shaw sighed, chiding himself mentally for letting his emotions affect his thoughts again, then headed below deck, towards his cabin. He refused to think about the _Middenwake_ captain for the rest of the night, bracing himself for another upcoming day of paperwork instead.

***

**Author's Note:**

> I decided to revisit [one of my favorite ](http://waakeme-up.tumblr.com/post/106948761044/other-ways-of-saying-i-love-you) tropes ever and make it Fairshaw (obviously), bc if there's a ship that perfectly fits with the saying "actions speak louder than words", it's them. 
> 
> I'm on [tumblr](https://xcosmicreaver.tumblr.com/)!!


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